


Delicate

by insouciant



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies RPF, Thor (2011) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, M/M, Past Abuse, References to Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-03
Updated: 2012-09-03
Packaged: 2017-11-13 12:02:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/503350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insouciant/pseuds/insouciant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life goes on. Time passes by. Some stay the same. Some change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Delicate

 

When Tom was young, just when he turned 13, he used to live in a crappy apartment. The rooms were old and the carpet smelled like a wet dog's hair. He didn't complain. He was used to moving around from one dingy apartment to another. His parents weren't exactly living their dreams and Tom was there to experience that with them. The good thing was that, this time, the apartment was on the first floor. That definitely made things easier. They didn't have to go up and down the stairs carrying heavy boxes all day long. So Tom thought that was a good start.

 

That was the first time he heard it. _The guitar sound._ Or more like a guitar noise. It was so bad that made Tom burst out in laughter. He heard it for the first time as he settled in bed tiredly. It was coming from the room upstairs. Definitely not next door, cause there was no next door. His room was on the corner of the first floor. So he listened to it. It could have bothered him. It really could have. It was really bad if Tom remembers correctly. It was like a little baby bashing those guitar strings, one string at a time. But weirdly enough, Tom liked it. It was oddly soothing. And Tom remembers falling asleep listening to that dull noise coming down from the ceiling. He didn't even have his usual nightmares.

 

It was like that every day. Tom would come back from school, help his parents out at work, well, at least as much as a young teenager could, finish his homework, and go to bed listening to that horrible guitarist. Yes, that was what he called this person. _The horrible guitari_ _s_ _t_ _._ His parents would laugh at that, but they were happy that Tom didn't have any nightmares. Tom was happy, too, that he didn't have any nightmares anymore. Tom thought it funny how this guitarist always managed to be so horrible all the time. He thought practice made everything better. Maybe that didn't apply to everyone.

 

Tom was surprisingly introverted when he was young. He's always been the quiet, shy one until he joined the _“real world”_. He would always stay inside listening to his parents' albums or watching movies. He read a lot and he used to write stories, too. But despite keeping himself busy all the time, it got quite lonely at times. He had no pets—no, pets cost money. He had no brothers or sisters and his parents were out nearly all day working.

 

One day he heard some noise outside. There were boys his age, maybe younger, playing soccer, or more like trying their best to imitate those soccer players from television. Tom quietly opened the door to his apartment and sat on the first step of the stairs leading to the second floor and continued what he was reading as he glanced at the boys every once in a while. The boys looked like they were having fun and he giggled to himself whenever one of the boys would make a terrible mistake and kick the ball too far away or trip and fall.

 

An hour or so later, the boys started running back to their homes. Tom was still seated on the steps finishing his book when a dark shadow covered his book. Tom quickly raised his head to see who it was. It was one of the boys from the group. The one with the blonde hair.

 

Tom blinked at him and asked "Yeah?"

 

The blonde boy giggled and said, "You're blocking the stairs!"

 

_Oh_ , Tom said as he quickly stood up. "I'm sorry."

 

"Oh, it's okay. I just didn't want to walk over you while you were reading. Mom said that was really rude." The boy said and Tom just nodded, holding onto his book. "Didn't you just move here?" The boy asked and Tom nodded again. "I live upstairs." The boy grinned.

 

"Wait, do you play the guitar?" Tom asked.

 

"Yeah, does it bother you? The other guy before you got mad at me for playing so late." The boy asked with worried eyes.

 

"No, I… I like it. You're good." Well, they were half-truth.

 

"Thanks! I'm Chris." The boy said with a big grin on his face.

 

"Tom." He answered.

 

That was their first encounter. Tom kinda hoped that the boy stayed longer, but he said he had to go back for dinner. They met a few more times after that. Tom found out that the boy was only 11, although he was already as tall as him. He invited Tom to play soccer with him and Tom realized that he was just as terrible as the other boys. He hurt his knee that evening which made his mom sad, but his dad was happy that he was making friends. Tom wasn't sure if he was making friends, but at least, he had one more thing to do to kill his boring time alone.

 

Chris said he was jealous of Tom about going to high school soon. Tom didn't understand what the big deal was, but Chris just kept saying that it was cool to go to high school. Chris invited Tom to his room once and even showed him that guitar of his. Tom smiled happily as Chris started playing it, as he expected, quite horribly. Between the six months Tom got to live in that apartment complex, nearly every night he fell asleep to the sound of Chris playing the guitar. They didn't hang out all the time, though. Chris was always busy hanging out from one group to another. It was always him who would gather the boys around, even girls sometimes, to play a silly game.

 

When his parents told him that they were moving again soon, Tom had to try hard not to cry. He wished their parents didn't move so often. Sometimes, he didn't get the point of moving from one apartment to another. They would move to a better one when they had more money, but it didn't take long for them move back to one of the crappier ones when their financial situation wasn't stable. But Tom grew up too fast living like this. And he didn't complain. He just nodded and told his parents that he would start packing. Tom cried that night, a lot actually, as he fell asleep listening to that guitar play.

 

Moving out wasn't that hard. Tom was a good packer by then. He knew what to pack and what to leave. He knew how to pack them so he won’t end up with extra boxes. It was a Saturday when they moved out and Chris had came out to see what the noise was all about. He was surprised that Tom was moving out already and Tom just smiled unable to explain his entire situation. Chris smiled back and squeezed his arm gently.

 

"I'll see you around," he said.

 

"Yeah," Tom answered.

 

But they were empty words. And they both knew it.

 

∞∞∞∞∞

 

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," Tom curses loudly as he gets up from bed. "No more. No fuckin' more." He mutters to himself angrily.

 

This bastard moved in above his apartment a few days ago and he won't fuckin' stop banging on his guitar. For fuck's sake, it's like he doesn't give a fuck about other residents here who need to fuckin' sleep! Tom stomps up the stairs and stares at the door for a few seconds before banging on it. The guitar sound stops and soon the door opens to show a handsome man looking at him curiously.

 

"Hey, I'm not sure if you realize this, but it's two in the morning and I gotta be at work by eight. Could you at least not play this late?" Tom asks irritated.

 

He needs his cigarettes. Yeah, he definitely needs one right now. He just needs to inhale that sweet cancerous thing right now, or else his head will explode. That fuckin' guitar is still ringing inside his head. Tom knows how this is going to end. Either the man is going to apologize and start acting like a polite human being or he's going to flip him the bird and yell at him to fuck off.

 

"Hey, I know you." Now that was not what Tom expected to come out of the guy's mouth. Tom stares at the other man for a couple seconds. He's smiling like a loon. _Maybe he's high_ , Tom thinks. "You do?"

 

The guy nods excitedly, "Yeah, we used to live at the same apartment, remember?" Tom shakes his head.

 

"You gotta be more specific than that, man. I lived in at least twenty different apartments until I left for college." The other man starts laughing.

 

"Chris? The guy who used to play guitar and invite you to play soccer? I used to live above you." Tom just stares at him for another few seconds until something clicks. _Chris, the horrible guitarist_.

 

When Tom smiles at him, Chris smiles back. _He wasn't an ugly kid, but damn, he sure did grow up handsome_ , Tom thinks.

 

"How the hell do you still remember me? It's been like… Wow, it's been 15 years!" Tom exclaims.

 

Chris nods in agreement. "I don't know. I just… You always stayed in my head. I always thought of you from time to time." He says.

 

"Well, that's… sweet of you." Tom says awkwardly. "Um, yeah, Chris, it's good to see you and all, but hey, I really gotta be up early for work. Is there any way you can turn down the volume at least?" He wants to go back to bed. He's too tired for this shit.

 

"Yeah, of course." Chris nods his head, but there is a slight disappointment shown on his face. "You remember when you used to tell me that you'd fall asleep listening to me playing?" He asks biting his lips.

 

"Oh, yeah, that. Gosh, it was such a long time ago." Tom says in a hurry. "Hey, um, I get back from work little before six. Why don't you stop by? We'll catch up tomorrow. Okay? I just… I gotta go sleep." Chris nods in understanding, but his eyes on the floor. "Nice, um… Good night! Try not to play so loud!" Tom reminds him as he heads back down stairs.

 

Chris stays a while in front of the door, his hand holding onto the door knob. He can't stop biting his lips. It was something he never expected to happen. _For him to see Tom again._ But as much as he's surprised, disappointment spreads inside his mind. _He's changed_ , Chris thinks. _He's changed_.

 

∞∞∞∞∞

 

Chris doesn't play the guitar late at night anymore, but he doesn't go downstairs to visit Tom either. Tom doesn't come upstairs to talk to him, so it's not like he's waiting for Chris to come see him. Though Chris doesn't admit, his mood has been down this whole week. His friends keep asking him if something's wrong, but really, there isn't anything wrong. Nothing special is going on. He just feels a bit down. And disappointed. And hurt. And… _No, I'm fine_ , Chris tells himself.

 

It's a Friday when there is an unexpected loud knock on his door. Chris is surprised to find Tom standing in front of him, giggling and… swaying back and forth.

 

"You never showed up." Tom points a finger at him and makes an angry face. "Can I come in?" He asks.

 

Chris isn't sure if this is a good idea, but he can't help but open the door wider so the other man can walk inside. Tom gives him a big smile and says "Thanks." He walks towards the sofa unsteadily and practically falls on it.

 

"Chris… Come sit here with me." Tom says patting the seat next to him.

 

"You're drunk," Chris says sitting next to him.

 

"I drank, but I'm completely sober." Tom says loudly. _That's what they all say_ , Chris thinks to himself shaking his head.

 

"Now let's catch up. So Chris, what do you do?" Tom asks, his voice still too loud for a normal conversation.

 

"I teach guitar lessons. I tutor. I help out at the recording place close from here." Chris answers. Tom nods with exaggeration.

 

"Does it make good money?" He asks.

 

"Sometimes yes. Sometimes no. Right now? Yes." Chris answers, his eyes unable to move away from Tom's face, his curious eyes, his flushed cheeks, and his slightly parted lips.

 

"That's good. That's good. Making money is good." Tom mumbles. "Fifteen years and you're all grown up making good money." Tom laughs and Chris can't tell what's so funny, but then drunk people tend to do that.

 

"I have no work tomorrow, so you have my permission to play the guitar. Chris, the horrible guitarist." Tom turns to look at Chris straight in the eyes. "Chris, the boy who took my nightmares away." For a moment, they just stay like that looking at each other until Tom bursts out laughing again.

 

"Sorry. Sorry I'm such a douchebag now. But I found out… You can't live this fuckin' world if you're not a douchebag." Tom giggles again, but his eyes aren't laughing. To Chris, he just looks so sad all of a sudden.

 

"Tom, you should go to sleep." Chris says squeezing Tom's arm.

 

"Yeah, you're right. I should. I'm tired. I should sleep. Where's your bedroom?"

 

Chris's eyes widen in surprise. "What?"

 

"Take me to your bedroom." Tom repeats sleepily.

 

"Tom, you live right downstairs. Let me just help you down the stairs." Chris tries to hold the older man, but his hands are swatted away.

 

"I don't want to go back to my room." Tom whines with a big frown on his face. "Just show me your bedroom. For fuck's sake." He grunts and whines until Chris finally gives in and leads him to the room.

 

Chris is left in awe, once more, when Tom starts shedding his clothes one by one until he reaches the bed. "People keep saying I put on a show when I'm drunk. I have no fuckin' idea why they say that." Tom mutters as he curls inside the bed grabbing a hold of all the blankets.

 

"Uh-huh. No idea why." Chris nods slowly picking up the clothes Tom's shed and folding them to put on the bedside.

 

"Where are you going?" Tom asks with his eyes half opened as Chris turns to leave the room.

 

"Um, I got other things to do." Chris answers awkwardly.

 

"Stay here. I want to sleep with you." Tom says with confidence.

 

Chris chokes on his own spit and coughs. "Tom-"

 

"Whatever you need to do right now can be done tomorrow. Just… get the fuck over here." Tom stretches his arm out towards Chris. After a moment of hesitation, Chris holds onto it. He lets himself be pulled down to the bed.

 

"You have a colorful language." Chris says with a smirk.

 

"Fuck you. Or actually, fuck me." Tom giggles onto Chris's pillow as Chris stares at him in shock. "It's your bed. Stop acting weird and get undressed. Get comfortable." Tom's hands grab onto Chris's white shirt and pull it up.

 

"You're the one drunk and stealing my bed." Chris can't help but laugh as he lets his shirt be thrown to the floor. He stops Tom's hands, however, from reaching further down and takes off the pants himself.

 

Tom throws half of the blankets over Chris's body with a big smile. "Hug me." He says. With a shake of his head, Chris gives in and traps the other man inside him.

 

It doesn't take long for them to fall asleep.

 

∞∞∞∞∞

 

Tom feels sick. His head is pounding with pain. He's cold. His arms feel cold. "I'm cold," he mutters. And there are arms wrapping around his body, rubbing his arms so they'll get warm again. Warm blankets cover his body. He always kicks them in his sleep and wakes up cold. He buries himself between those arms. Those warm arms.

 

_Wait a minute._ Tom opens his eyes and finds Chris staring back at him with a shy smile. It takes a few seconds for his brain to organize some of his messy, blurry thoughts until he finally says "Fuck."

 

"Yup." Chris answers like he understands. Like he knew Tom was going to say that.

 

"I'm so sorry. Wow, I get drunk for the first time since the last New Year’s Eve party and I come up to your place? I don't even know you. Great fuckin job, Tom." His apology to Chris soon ends and Tom's deep in thought talking to himself. But it's not like Chris can't hear him.

 

"You do know me." Chris corrects him.

 

"What?" Tom wakes up from his thoughts to look at the other man.

 

"You do know me. You know my name, where I live, what I do-"

 

"Wait, I know what you do?" Tom cuts in and asks.

 

"Yeah, you asked me last night. But… you probably don't remember because you were drunk." Chris smiles bitterly. It should be obvious, so Chris really doesn't have any reason to be disappointed, but somehow he can't help but feel this way.

 

"Chris, um… I'm really sorry, man. You should have just kicked me out. I'm a horrible drunk. That's why I hardly drink." Tom looks at him apologetically then covers his eyes as the headache only worsens with his eyes opened.

 

"What's your name?" He whispers.

 

"You know that already." Chris says with a smile.

 

"No, what's your full name?" He asks again massaging his head.

 

"Chris Hemsworth." Chris answers.

 

"Hemsworth. That's a nice name. Tom Hiddleston." Tom smiles at him tiredly as he reaches out for a handshake. Except they can't really shake their hands properly, what with Tom's body still trapped inside Chris's. They end up laughing in the bed that is too small for two grown men to fit in the first place. But Tom doesn't push Chris away despite apologizing for his drunken actions. And Chris doesn't think of moving his hands from Tom's back and his waist.

 

"So Chris Hemsworth, please do tell me again, what do you do?" Tom asks with a smile on his face, his hand still on his pounding head.

 

"I play the guitar. I teach guitar lessons and help out at the music store down the block. I just do all kinds of things related to music." Tom nods in approval.

 

"That's a good job. I mean, at least… It's what you wanted, right?" Tom asks.

 

"Yeah, it's something I've been wanting to do since I was little." Chris answers.

 

"That's great. Great." Tom sighs and Chris isn't sure what that means exactly.

 

"What about you? What do you do?" Chris asks.

 

"Well, Chris, have you seen the Elf? That comedy movie with Will Ferrell in it?" Tom asks with his eyes closed.

 

"Yeah, I did. It was pretty hilarious." Chris replies.

 

"Well, do you remember when he's sent down to the mail room?"

 

"Yeah, I do. That was a pretty funny scene." Chris doesn't know where this is going exactly, but he decides to go along with it.

 

"Well, Chris, that's what I do. I work in the mail room. And I organize all the packages and mails all day long. You remember those grumpy looking men in the movie? Yeah, that's how I look most of the time. No fuckin’ Buddy the Elf for me." Tom says nonchalantly and shakes his head. "Man, my head is killing me." He shuts his eyes again.

 

Chris bites his lips. He's been doing that a lot recently. Ever since he's met Tom again last week. He carefully lifts his arm up from Tom's waist and starts pressing his fingers on his head. Rubbing the scalp and brushing his curls.

 

"That feels so good." Tom answers, humming in pleasure. He pushes himself closer to Chris's body. "You're so fuckin' warm."

 

Chris chuckles. "I guess thanks?"

 

"I'm always cold. You're exactly what I need to make my life a little better." Tom mutters, his face on Chris's chest. Chris stops his hand and looks down at Tom. He's asleep again. Chris smiles sadly as he continues to rub his hand on Tom's hair.

 

∞∞∞∞∞

 

It's not like they were having a relationship. As much as Chris wanted to call it that, it wasn't. Every once in a while, Chris would go down to invite Tom for dinner and they would chat. But what Chris realized is that, Tom was never open about himself. He would talk about trifle things. Like about the neighbors here, some crazy coworkers he's had to work with, the game results, and some news from the television. But hardly about himself. Whenever Chris would talk a little about himself hoping that Tom would do the same in turn, Tom rarely did. He would just smile and nod and change the topic to something completely different.

 

What's become a routine though is Tom's drunken visits. He said he hardly drank, but ever since that one night, Tom would visit him half drunk and giggly nearly every weekend. Chris doesn't meet up with his buddies or invite them over to hang out at his place during the weekends anymore. He's not going to admit it's because of Tom, but then, he can't come up with any other valid excuses. He liked it when Tom was drunk. He knows that's a bad thing to say, but when Tom was drunk, he was more open, more honest, and happy. And those were the things he wanted to see from Tom.

 

It's Saturday after midnight when there is a loud bang on his door and Chris secretly smiles knowing precisely who that is. However, when he opens the door, he doesn't see the usual happy drunk Tom. He sees Tom in tears, his eyes red, his breathing heavy as if he's trying to stop himself from breaking down. Chris smells alcohol off him, but he can tell in his eyes that he's not so drunk.

 

"Tom, what's wrong?" With a sniff and a smile that draws another tear drop, he pushes Chris aside and walks inside. "Tom-"

 

"I fuckin' hate you, you know that?" Tom says with a choked voice that stops Chris from walking closer to him. "You just… you just come into my life like everything's good. You bring back the old memories like it's nothing. It's nothing to you, but it hurts! Okay? It fuckin' hurts for me!" Tom lets out a sob. He holds his head, "Fuck, I have a headache."

 

"Tom…" Tom looks at him for a few seconds until he lets out a laugh and wipes his tears off roughly.

 

"You regret it, don't you? You regret it. I know you do. You're probably thinking _what a psycho_. Yeah, I am. But it's not that easy getting rid of me, I've heard. Don't worry. I've tried myself many times, too. But it's not easy killing yourself-"

 

"Tom, shut the fuck up!" Chris yells at him for the first time.

 

"I won't shut the fuck up! I won't… I won't…" Tom drops to the floor unable to continue. His whole body shakes unable to control his sadness. His breaths choking out.

 

Chris walks towards him and kneels next to him. He realizes that he's been crying, too. He doesn't really know why. Is it because he's disappointed that Tom's changed so much? No, it's the way he's changed. And it's not even his fault. Chris swallows his tears as he hugs Tom tightly in his arms. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

 

"I have headaches. I have nightmares. And they just won't fuckin' go away." Tom says. "They hurt me. They scare me." Tom whimpers as if he's in pain.

 

Chris hugs him tighter. Soothing him. Shushing him. "I'll make them go away. I'll stop them from hurting you. I'll try my best."

 

Tom laughs between his sobs. He pushes Chris away and looks at him. Stares at him with a smile. His shaky hand grabs Chris's cheek. "Chris, the boy who took my nightmares away."

 

Chris nods and nods. "Yeah, I'll take them away. I will."

 

Tom laughs. Chris laughs. They laugh together. They wipe each other's tears away. Together.

 

∞∞∞∞∞

 

It's almost four in the morning and Chris and Tom are still awake. Silently chatting. Their murmurs filling Chris's bedroom. It's as usual. Tom lying next to Chris. Chris's arm around Tom's while he plays with his curls. But this time, Tom's sober. He knows what he's talking about. And for the first time, he talks about himself to Chris. About his life.

 

"Yeah, so I finally go to college away from my parents. And I get kicked out. Drugs." Chris looks at him in surprise.

 

"Drugs? You did drugs?" Tom scoffs and shakes his head.

 

"If I was kicked out for actually doing drugs, I wouldn't be complaining so much. I just had a roommate who somehow managed to drag me down with him. It was a fucked up situation. I mean, it's not like I had anyone to defend me." Chris bites his lips and Tom presses his finger on them. "Stop biting them." He says.

 

"I won't. I won't." Chris smiles.

 

"So… I go back home and my parents are so angry that they kick me out. Can you believe that shit? They fuckin' kicked me out. After all I've suffered with them. _For them_. They kicked me out because they can't afford to deal with that kind of trouble anymore. So I'm basically left all on my own. A college dropout, who's not even twenty yet. That's when shit goes real, real down." Tom finishes with a deep sigh.

 

Chris lowers his hand to rub Tom's red eyes. "You look horrible right now."

 

Tom swats it away with a snort. "Shut the fuck up. You don't look any better."

 

Chris lets out an exaggerating sigh. "Language, Tom, language."

 

"Fuck you." Tom snaps and they both end up laughing again.

 

When the silence is back and Chris's hand is also back on Tom's hair, he asks quietly. "So what happened afterwards?"

 

"Not much. Well, actually everything. I really think there isn't a job I haven't worked. I delivered food, I cooked, I waited, I fixed shits, and I cleaned cars, offices, houses. _Everything_. I think the only thing I haven't done so far is fuck for money." Chris chokes at that. "Although… I’ve been offered a job for that field. But I thought that was pushing it too far."

 

"Good choice." Chris nods in approval.

 

There's another silence. It's a good silence though, where both men have small smiles on their faces. Chris swallows rather loudly and Tom snickers.

 

"So, um… Did you really try… Um, to hurt yourself?" Chris's voice is filled with doubt and a tinge of regret. Does he really want to know? Would Tom even want to talk about this?

 

"Yeah, several times, actually." Tom says casually. "When I got kicked out from college and from home, I was so lost. I overdosed with sleeping pills. What I found out was… When I fell unconscious in the street, some random guys apparently stole everything from me. So when I was left in the hospital, they didn't know who to call. They couldn't even find out who I was. I should be regretting it, but… That led me to a better path. I told the people why I did what I did and they hooked me up with different support centers and I was able to find a place to stay and get a job." Tom smiles at Chris, but Chris just can't push himself to smile back.

 

"I feel like whenever my life hit rock bottom, instead of fighting against those hardships, I always… I always gave up. I always chose the easy way out. I, um… overdosed a couple more times throughout the years, the last one being nearly two years ago. But now, I try my best to fight those evils off. Seriously, come by my place, you won't see any meds at all. I don't even give myself a chance to be tempted." Tom smiles rather proudly and Chris just nods. Nods with a smile.

 

He lowers his hand to touch Tom's brow. Tom closes his eyes saying that it tickles. The wrinkles around his eyes when he shuts his eyes and smiles, they're just so beautiful. To Chris, they're perfect. He closes the distance between them and kisses his brow. Kisses his nose. Kisses his cheek. And kisses his lips.

 

"What was that for?" Tom asks with eyes full of curiosity as Chris draws his lips away from his. Despite the fact that it's Chris who initiated the kiss, it's Chris who's flushing. Chris who's stuttering a bit as he answers, "I think I… I've always been in love with you."

 

Tom looks at him with his lips still slightly parted, glistening with Chris's spit. Tom bursts out in laughter. "That's creepy, okay? Even then, you didn't know me well. We met like six times before I moved out." Chris tries to make up for what he might have accidentally said, speaking gibberish that makes Tom laugh more until his lips are back on Chris's to deepen the kiss.

 

When the kiss is over and Tom pushes away with a giggle, Chris is still in awe of what just happened. "Chris, wipe your lips. You have my drool on your lips." Tom says jokingly and Chris flushes once more. "I guess…" Tom says with a sigh. "I guess, in a way, I was never able to forget you either. I think about your guitar sound when my headaches get real bad or when I wake up from my nightmares. I imagine that you're still upstairs playing that guitar. And sometimes it works. Sometimes they take my pains away." He smiles and kisses Chris once more. "Let's just say we’re both creepers jerking off on our childhood crush." He says breathing into Chris's mouth.

 

One kiss becomes two kisses until they lose count halfway through. A kiss to the lips becomes a kiss to the neck, to the collarbone, to the shoulders, to the chest until they're both shedding their clothes in a hurry. Tom shudders at the loss of both warm blankets and his clothes.

 

"It's cold." Tom whispers and Chris covers his naked body on Tom's. He kisses the older man over and over again until Tom pushes away gasping for breath. He feels Tom's hand around his cock. He feels how he twists his wrist to make him shudder in pleasure. He loves the way Tom's long fingers move up and down his hard cock.

 

"You're making my hand wet, Chris. You're leaking all over me." Tom says between his heavy breathing.

 

They don't say much during their sex. They just grab onto each other, their shoulders, their waists, ankles and hips, and everywhere else they can get their hands on. The room fills with grunts and moans until a more vulgar sound joins in.

 

At first, Tom whimpers, nearly backing away from Chris's touch, at the initial pain. He shakes his head, suddenly unsure of his decision to have the other man inside. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." He curses and hisses in pain as he asks the other man to go easy on him. "It's been a while since I got laid." He says with a breathy laugh.

 

Chris rubs his hands over Tom's body trying to relax him, kissing him and covering his mouth whenever he curses. They keep smiling when their eyes meet. Like they're playing a game. Except when the pain spreads and Tom shuts his eyes, it's not fun anymore.

 

When the fingers leave and Tom finds Chris lubing himself, Tom shakes his head in disbelief. "Who would have known that I'd be fucking one of the boys from my childhood?" Chris shakes his head, too, not for the same reason, but because Tom keeps saying weird things like that with his dirty mouth.

 

He grabs the back of Tom's knees and pushes them down bending the other man. When he slowly pushes in, Tom shakes his head, this time in pain, the stretch becoming too overwhelming. But when Chris stops, it's Tom who's locking his legs and encouraging Chris to continue. "Don't fuckin' stop. Just keep going." He grunts out.

 

Chris continues. Continues moving his hips in and out of Tom, continues kissing the other man over and over again like he won't get another chance if he doesn't right now, continues to rub his hands on the other man's hips, his neck, his chest, his shoulders, and most importantly, his cock.

 

Tom is a mess under him. Gasping for breath, his hands hitting the bed when it gets overwhelming until Chris reaches out to tangle his fingers with his, and surprisingly, he bites his lips worried that his moans may be too loud. He curses and then bites his lips, tears rolling down his eyes, and when biting his lips isn't enough, he covers his hand over his mouth.

 

"It's okay, Tom. You're not that loud. It's okay." Chris tells him, but he just shakes his head. Shakes his head and asks for Chris to kiss him. Kiss him hard. And Chris does. And it's when Chris covers his mouth with Tom's that he moans. He moans openly while their tongues mix, while Chris swallows the sounds for him.

 

It doesn't take long until they're both coming, Tom making a mess on Chris's hand. When Chris lays back down next to him, Tom asks if he can wrap his arms around him. "Aren't you hot?" Chris asks and Tom just answers, "No, I'm cold again." So Chris hugs him tight even though his body is still burning up from their sex.

 

"We're not dating, are we?" Tom asks with his face buried on the crook of Chris's neck. Honestly, Chris is lost as to what to say. They're not dating. But what if Tom gets hurt by him saying that they're not? But they haven't been dating. So…

 

"Um, not really, I don't think." Chris answers quietly, hoping that Tom would be asleep. But instead of a disappointed face, it's a burst of laughter Chris hears, tickling his neck.

 

"We haven't even been dating and we fucked!" Tom nearly shouts. "We have some messed up moral issues going on here." He giggles as he pinches Chris's cheek. "Ugh, why are you so naive? It makes me want to want you more!"

 

"Tom, stop it." Chris says holding the hand pinching his cheek and placing kisses on it.

 

"But you're so sweet." Tom says half-sincere and half-teasingly.

 

"Maybe um… Maybe we should date. You know, go out. Go to restaurants and maybe… You can watch me play or something." Chris mutters quietly unable to look at Tom's eyes, because he knows that Tom wouldn't take him seriously. He knows that Tom would just laugh at this, too. But there are hands reaching out to cover his cheeks and Tom's looking at him with a smile.

 

"If you're going to ask me out, you better look at me straight in the eyes and tell me that." His hand goes further up to untangle some of Chris's lock, quite a mess now after having sex. "And of course, I'd love to see you play as long as it doesn't bother my sleep schedule." He laughs as Chris's face brightens up.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted on [tumblr](http://ambiguouslines.tumblr.com/post/30823092440/).
> 
> Reviews and comments are greatly appreciated!


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